


That Girl is Great

by ArgentLives



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Felicity Smoak,” she speaks slowly, “you listen to me. You are a strong, beautiful, smart, amazing woman, and trust me when I say that it’s entirely this guy’s loss. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”</p>
<p>And then Iris gives her one of those smiles, one of those literal-sunshine smiles, and Felicity feels herself melt into her touch. </p>
<p>(Felicity's cover for Barry during trivia night lands her in an unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome, situation. Iris proves herself to be a great friend, as per usual.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girls Night In

**Author's Note:**

> So I noticed that there were no Iris/Felicity fics out there and decided that needed to change ASAP (come on people join me in shipping this wonderful ship join meeee) and I've been wondering what Felicity might've said to Iris after Barry disappeared to do his super-heroing business, and then I thought of this and thought "well why the fuck not."
> 
> Give me more ladies x ladies please

_“Just go! I’ll cover for you.”_

It takes a few seconds for Felicity to collect herself, hair still windswept from Barry’s abrupt departure, struggling to keep from calling out after him when she knows he’s probably already miles away.

It’s not cold outside—it’s a warm fall night, at a temperature that’s perfectly comfortable even in her tiny black dress, and yet she can feel her skin break out in goose-bumps. She blinks twice, still not sure she’s ever going to get used to her friend’s newfound speed, and turns back around to face Jitters, flattening her hair and smoothing down her dress. She takes a deep, steadying breath, before yanking the door open and stepping back inside.

Iris is in front of her before she can even make it back to their table, eyebrows knitted in concern, looking over Felicity’s shoulder for someone who Felicity knows won’t be showing up.

After a few seconds have passed and Barry still hasn’t reappeared, Iris directs her attention back to Felicity, eyes squinted in that something’s-not-quite-right-here kind of way that she has.

“Is everything okay? Where’s Barry? You guys kind of just took off after Eddie left and didn’t say where you were going.”

“Yeah! Uh, yeah, everything is great. Super. Barry, um, had to go. Said he wasn’t feeling well…I think he might’ve had too much of those cappuccinos, you know, probably didn’t sit well in his stomach, and, ah…yeah. So that’s…that’s what’s happening there.”

Felicity is profoundly grateful that no one, aside from Iris, is here to witness her struggling with this should-be-simple task. _‘I’m really good at keeping secrets’, yeah, okay, sureee—nice job there, Smoak_ , she thinks, mentally kicking herself and hoping against hope that Iris won’t question her further.

Oliver is easy to cover for—Barry, not so much. Especially when it comes down to lying straight to his best friend’s face.

But if Iris finds anything strange about her awkward excuse, she doesn’t show it—rather, she suddenly looks annoyed, narrowing her eyes and glaring at a spot past Felicity’s head where the non-existent Barry would be standing, had he followed her back inside.

“I can’t believe he just bailed. He could’ve at least like, taken you home or something. Or wherever you’re staying in Central City for the time being, I mean.”

Felicity is speechless for a moment at the fact that Iris is actually annoyed on her behalf, and a little touched, too.

And then the rest of Iris’s words really register, the thought of Barry taking her back to her apartment, or her going back to Barry’s apartment, or… whatever… forces its way into her mind because, well, yeah—if this stupid Leonard Snart guy hadn’t gotten in the way that’s kind of what she had been hoping for.

She was sick of waiting around for Oliver, sick of his wishy-washy feelings and his aversion to commitment. She still had feelings for him, sure—it’s not like she could expect them to just disappear overnight. But she wasn’t going to wait for him to change when it seemed more than likely that he wouldn’t—or couldn’t, not even for her.

And fuck it, she deserves better. She deserves to be happy. So it might take her a while to get over her feelings for Oliver, but she’s going to try her damn best to do it.

Barry is sweet, he’s cute, he’s smart and funny and objectively, they’re kind of perfect for each other. She likes him—not in the way that she loves Oliver, not yet, but maybe…maybe she could. And there’s no harm in trying, in seeing where things go.

It’s also become more than obvious throughout the night, however, that Barry, while he does seem to return Felicity’s interest (if his blatant showing-off earlier is anything to go by), is hopelessly in love with Iris.

Ironically, it just makes her feel closer than ever to him, seeing that look on his face whenever Eddie and Iris kiss or touch, because she knows exactly how he feels.

She can see why, honestly—Iris is pretty, like, _super_ pretty, she’s smart and bubbly and confident and fun and easy to talk to, and in the short time that Felicity has spent with her she’s honestly started to develop a little crush of her own. It’s impossible _not_ to like Iris.

But she has a boyfriend, and she seems pretty into him, and she and Barry both need to move on, at least for now. And they’re both conveniently available.

After a few moments have passed, Felicity feels a steady hand on her arm and nearly jumps, having been so absorbed in her thoughts.

Iris is looking at her in concern, and when Felicity startles at her touch she asks, “Are you okay? You seem a little flustered.”

It dawns on Felicity that she hasn’t responded to her yet, and she notes that she should probably say something to Iris so that she won’t scold Barry later on her behalf for something he really couldn’t control (even though she can’t exactly explain why).

“Oh, yeah, sorry—I’m fine. Just spaced out for a minute there. But it’s uh, not his fault, really. I, um, I said I wanted to stay. You know, maybe the two of us could spend some time together. I haven’t had a girls’ night out in like…years, honestly. It’d be…it’d be cool to get to know you.”

The expression on Iris’s face instantly melts from one of worry to one of excitement, and Felicity has to remind herself to breathe when Iris is looking at her like that, with that perfect, toothy, ear-to-ear smile and her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“You know what, I could really go for that right now. I’d totally be down for a girls’ night. Let me just grab my jacket and we can head back to my place. I don’t think my dad will be in tonight and I  have some wine that needs drinking and brownies that need eating, and I can’t do it all myself.”

“I’d be more than happy to help with that,” Felicity responds with a smile of her own, and she’s really not lying, not this time.

                                             

 

“No way,” Felicity chokes out as she’s doubled over in laughter, eyes steaming with tears, feeling pleasantly buzzed from the wine. She briefly thinks about how she hasn’t laughed like this in ages—this carefree, this _happy_ , or this much. “You and Barry did _what_?”

Iris is laughing too, and it must be the alcohol getting to her head because Felicity thinks she’s never seen anyone look so radiant, so beautiful, and even just the sound of her laughing is wonderful, and it’s like…she never wants it to stop.

“It’s true. I swear, ask him. We were some pretty strange kids.”

They’ve been sitting on this couch for…god, probably hours now. She’s kind of lost track of time—it feels so easy to lose track of time when she’s talking to Iris—and they’ve been chatting, getting to know each other, and exchanging stories like this, dumb and funny and embarrassing stories about things they did when they were younger (and God knows Felicity has more than enough of those to go around) as they pass the bottle of wine back and forth and some romantic comedy they absentmindedly picked out on Netflix plays out on the TV in front of them.

Felicity really likes Iris, like _really_ likes her, and it seems like Iris is genuinely enjoying her company, too.

Also, for the first time in a long time, as she’s been sitting here, drinking and laughing and talking and really _enjoying_ herself, Oliver Queen hasn’t crossed her mind once.

(Okay, well, maybe just that once, but it was in reference to how great it feels that she hasn’t really thought about him tonight, since she’s been sitting here with Iris, and she wasn’t thinking about him in _that_ way, so _technically_ it doesn’t really count. At least that’s what she tells herself.)

“Your turn! Let’s talk about something…deep. I’m in the mood for deep,” Iris says, straightening up and putting her hands on Felicity’s shoulders and trailing them down her arms, staring intently into her eyes.

Among the long list of things Felicity has learned about her tonight, one of the most obvious has been that Iris is very touchy when she’s tipsy. _Very_ touchy, with a very limited sense of personal space, and Felicity finds that she really doesn’t have a problem with it. It’s distracting—in a good way.

“Deep? Um…okay, well,” she thinks for a minute, and decides she doesn’t want to delve into her mommy issues and absent father problems, so instead she opts for her complicated love life.

“I fell in love with a guy who didn’t love me back, at least at first. And then he did, or at least he said he did, and things were looking…optimistic, and then there was this explosion, and he said we couldn’t be together because it could put me in danger, and he’s got this whole twisted idea that he’s got to be alone forever, and I’m not willing to wait around for him to change his mind anymore, so…”

Felicity finishes her rambling with a shrug before what she’s just said really catches up to her, and when it does she realizes this was probably not the kind of deep that Iris meant, or wanted to hear, and honestly _why_ _does anyone ever let her talk_. She glares at the almost-empty bottle of wine between them, silently blaming it for making her run her mouth like that—although it’s probably just as much the fact that she’s kind of a mess. A big, loveable mess.

And fuck, now she’s thinking of Oliver again. There goes her one-night streak.

“Oh,” Iris finally responds, eyes wide and full of concern, and Felicity worries that she’s ruined everything—they were having so much _fun_ , and now she’s probably made it all serious and uncomfortable.

But Iris just covers Felicity’s hand with one of her own, and cups her cheek in the other.

Her hands are warm and reassuring, and for the second time tonight, Felicity feels her skin break out in goose-bumps. And it’s still not because she’s cold.

“Felicity Smoak,” she speaks slowly, “you listen to me. You are a strong, beautiful, smart, amazing woman, and trust me when I say that it’s entirely this guy’s loss. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

And then Iris gives her one of those smiles, one of those literal-sunshine smiles, and Felicity feels herself melt into her touch.

She doesn’t know what makes her do what she does next—maybe it’s the way Iris is looking at her, the feeling of her hands against her skin, the way her gaze briefly flickers to her lips, the fact that there is barely any space between them, the wine blurring her better judgment—but she does it.

She leans in, closing the small space between them, and kisses her. Her first thought is that Iris’s lips are soft and warm, that everything about Iris is warm. Her second is that Iris isn’t pushing her away, that she’s kissing her _back_. And she can taste the wine that’s staining her lips, and she knows they shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels _really_ good, and she can’t bring herself to care.

When they finally break apart, they stare at each other in mutual shock and a tad of confusion, both breathing heavily and looking flustered, and Felicity gives Iris a small, embarrassed smile. Iris is about to return it, when suddenly she gasps, eyes going wide.

“Wait…you were in an explosion?”

“Oh, uh, it’s a long story…” Felicity responds, fighting to keep a straight face, and then somehow they’re laughing again, really hard, clutching each other and giggling until they’re practically falling off the couch.

They don’t bring the kiss up again, but it’s there. It happened. It should be weird, it should be uncomfortable, but somehow it’s not. Once they’ve caught their breath, once they’ve finally stopped laughing, they resume their conversation as though it’s a completely normal thing to kiss a friend who you’ve technically just met— and who has a boyfriend, no less.

They talk and exchange stories until their eyes grow heavy and until they physically can’t stay awake any longer, and Iris falls asleep with her head on Felicity’s shoulder.

Felicity drifts into sleep, too, with a smile on her face, wondering if they’ll talk about this tomorrow— or ever, for that matter. And thinking about how lucky she is to have made a friend like Iris West, even if she is just getting to know her, and how lucky Barry is to have known her for so long.

She doesn’t think about Oliver.

 


	2. A Case of Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Felicity is completely smitten, and Iris makes a slight change to a certain list of hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Also I know so far this has been mostly from Felicity's viewpoint, but I definitely plan to do more Iris-centric chapters too.

Felicity Smoak has never quite mastered the art of subtlety. Actually, she’s never managed to be subtle a day in her life. Never thinking before she speaks, nearly always saying the wrong thing, painfully obvious with her feelings, absolutely dreadful at hiding her emotions.

It’s one of those things that in her early, painfully awkward teenage years her mom used to assure her was endearing. Whenever Felicity would tearfully express the view that she was a mess-up, an embarrassment, her mom would sit her down on the couch, hug her tightly and tell her in a soothing voice not to worry, that the boys would be falling over themselves to get her attention one day— embarrassing slip-ups and all.

Aside from the fact that her mom never considered the fact that it was never really just the boys Felicity was concerned with, she’s also never quite seen it that way—as endearing. No, it’s been more of a liability than anything, honestly, something that’s always bound to get her into trouble one way or another.

So the morning after their girls-night-in, when Iris asks with that mega-watt smile of hers for Felicity’s number, it’s all Felicity can do not to fall flat on her face in excitement as she scrambles off the couch to grab her phone, with the intention of asking for Iris’s number in return. Actually, she _does_ nearly fall flat on her face, but she’s able to pass it off as tripping over a stray shoe on the ground rather than clumsiness borne from her embarrassing over-eagerness.

Iris laughs, not unkindly, as Felicity blushes and stammers her excuse. After they exchange phones, Iris types in her number into Felicity’s and then bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands together in excitement. It’s probably the cutest thing Felicity has ever seen—in fact it’s so overwhelmingly adorable that she nearly drops her phone.

“This is great! Now we can keep in touch when you’re back in Starling City and—oh! Do you have snap chat? You _have_ to add me on snap chat. I’m like, the best snap-chatter ever. Just ask Barry.”

Felicity can’t keep the smile off her face as she listens to Iris’s animated rambling, and happily accompanies her to Jitters for coffee before Iris’s morning shift at work.

She also can’t stop thinking about what it felt like to kiss her, about how she’d very much be willing to do it again. Neither of them bring it up, at least not at first, although a few times Felicity senses that they’re dangerously close to broaching the topic.

She supposes that she should have realized it was inevitable, as Iris’s shift draws nearer, when Iris reaches across the table to rest her hands on top of hers. Even though Felicity knows what’s coming, she indulges herself in the sudden warmth that her touch brings, and crosses her toes in the hopes that Iris won’t notice the involuntary twitch of her fingers at the sudden contact, itching to respond, or how her palms have suddenly gone all hot and sweaty.

“Hey, listen, about last night—”

Felicity reluctantly tugs a hand out from underneath Iris’s to hold up beside her, signaling for Iris to stop, shaking her head back and forth in an attempt to cut her off.

“Look, Iris, don’t worry about it. It was my fault, I know you’ve got Eddie and I— well, I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry, I really enjoyed— shit, wait, I _am_ sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I was out of line and…and we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I mean, unless you _do_ want to, then we can talk about it, of course, if you want, but…oh my god. I’m sorry, I _really_ need to stop talking, but what I’m _trying_ to say is—”

The words get stuck in her throat at the sound of Iris’s laughter, just as warm and sweet as she remembers it being, and she abruptly loses her train of thought. Not that she really had one to begin with, but she definitely had been about to say _something_ , and for the life of her she can’t remember what it was.

“Felicity, seriously, it’s okay,” Iris says, smiling, the laughter still dancing in her eyes. Felicity dully registers that she has yet to put her hand down, doesn’t really realize that it’s still hanging limply in the air until Iris reaches out and captures it in her own, gently placing it back on the table and patting it reassuringly.

“It’s…okay? Really?” Felicity asks, somewhat taken aback. She had been expecting a lot of things, preparing herself for the inevitable rejection, or scolding, or whatever, but not this.

“Yeah, really. I enjoyed it too, honest. And I just want you to know that I don’t regret it, and it wasn’t just because of the wine. But…” Iris trails off, lifting her gaze from her hands, still resting on top of Felicity’s, and gives her a sad smile.

“But?” Felicity repeats, with a wistful smile of her own, and she’s not asking, not really, because she already knows the answer, already can tell what Iris is going to say next, but at least now she knows that what she felt last night wasn’t entirely one-sided after all.

“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on, because I really like you and I really do want us to be friends, and maybe if we had met some other time we could, like, go down _that_ road, but I do love Eddie, and I couldn’t do that to him.”

Felicity nods in understanding, and while she can’t help but be a little disappointed, she’s surprisingly not upset. How could she be, when Iris really likes her, and when she’s looking at her like that?

“Yeah, totally. I get it. I mean, with Oliver and everything, I’ve got enough drama in my own romantic life already, I wouldn’t want to cause any in yours. I mean— wait, oh God, did I really just say that? Please forget I just said that.”

Felicity groans and ducks her head in mortification, feeling her face heat up in response, but Iris just gives her hand a squeeze and laughs it off, assuring her that she’s fine.

When she finally raises her head again to meet Iris’s gaze, there’s an eager look in Iris’s eye as she pulls her hands away from Felicity’s to clasp them together, almost as if she’s nervous. She finally seems to gather up her resolve and flashes another smile at Felicity before speaking again.

“Seriously though, I really do want to keep in touch, and I really enjoyed spending time with you, and if it’s alright with you I wouldn’t mind doing it more often. I really think we could be good friends.”

Felicity gives what she hopes is a winning smile in return.

“Of course, yeah. I think I would really like that.”

 

 

Later, after some animated planning for the next time they are together, Felicity finally resigns herself to the fact that she really should get going, that Iris’s shift will start any minute and she can’t be the one holding her up. Iris watches her as she goes, intently staring at her ponytail swishing back and forth and willing herself not to let her gaze travel lower. Predictably, she doesn’t succeed.

As if she can feel Iris’s eyes on her, Felicity turns to look over her shoulder and gives her one last little wave as she’s walking out the door, colliding with a man immersed in some apparently all-important conversation on his cell phone as he’s walking into the building and spilling some of her coffee on his suit in the process.

She can hear Felicity’s frantic, fumbling apology from where she’s sitting all the way on the other side of the café and quickly covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. By the time the important-looking business man has angrily waved Felicity off and she’s finally out the door, the fond grin concealed beneath Iris’s fingertips has yet to fade.

A few seconds go by before Iris drops her hand from her mouth and drums her fingers thoughtfully on the table, preparing herself for the long day of work ahead of her and debating whether or not to make a decision that she might later painfully regret. Felicity’s bright, eager face hovers in her mind’s eye, and she decides _fuck it,_ as she extracts a pen and a small, worn little notebook from her purse.

She opens the book to the first page and taps the pen on the first line a few times, contemplating, before making up her mind and pulling off the thoroughly-chewed pen cap, crossing out the words ‘# _1\. Oliver Queen’_ underneath the heading _‘Iris West’s 3 List—for Iris’s eyes only!!!’_

She can feel herself blushing as she scribbles in the name to replace it, feeling absurdly like a freshman back in high school again, naïve and innocent and with an embarrassingly massive crush, imagining what it might entail if this list were actually serious.

The concept of the list as a whole is deceiving, because she would never _actually_ cheat on Eddie, and she wouldn’t want to, but…a name on a list shouldn’t be making her feel this guilty. Still, as she looks at the words in bold black ink shining on the page before her, she can’t bring herself to regret writing them, doesn’t feel even an ounce of regret at crossing off the name that was there before. This one is more personal. This one might actually mean something.

She lets her gaze linger on the page a bit longer, trailing her fingers across the recently-dried letters and smiling to herself before closing the notebook, capping the pen, and returning them to her bag. Even out of sight, the name is still heavy in her thoughts.

_(‘#1. Felicity Smoak’)_

 

Felicity is sure her face is bright red as she makes her way down the street and away from Jitters, focusing on moving one foot in front of the other with unwavering intensity and refusing to lift her gaze from the ground.

She supposes she should be paying more attention on what’s actually in front of her, on making sure she doesn’t walk headlong into anyone else, but she can’t bring herself to care. Her cheeks are still burning with embarrassment, but as she imagines Iris’s eyes following her as they had done earlier, a different feeling lodges its way into her chest. She can’t help the grin that she feels spreading its way across her face.

It’s not until she gets a text from Barry, one responding to her message from earlier asking how everything went, that Felicity’s smile falters, and a pang of guilt settles in her stomach.

The message reads: _‘Hey, I’m okay—at S.T.A.R. Labs now. How was last night? Iris told me you guys hung out! Isn’t she great? Oh, and the bad guy got away :(’_

Felicity groans and pictures Barry’s face before trivia night had been interrupted, remembers the heart-eyes he had been making at Iris all night and how completely obvious it had been that he was in love with his best friend. And here she is, fantasizing about kissing the very same girl… _again_ , which makes it even worse.

It’s illogical, she knows—she can’t help how she feels any more than he can, and honestly it’s not exactly like it’s hard to fall for someone like Iris. And Iris is her own person, makes her own choices and can’t control who she is or isn’t into like that too, but still.

She still feels guilty as she hails a taxi, changing course for S.T.A.R. Labs, and even though she knows he’s not the kind of guy who would try to guilt-trip her or make her feel bad about what she’s feeling, her mind won’t stop dredging up with images of Barry wearing a heartbroken expression if he ever were to find out exactly how last night was.

 

 

Barry comes to say goodbye to her on the train. She’s glad he does, it’s nice, and it’s good to see that he’s all better, back to 100%, after their run-in with Snart (she snorts when she remembers the nickname Cisco dubbed for him—Captain Cold. Seriously?). But what’s not nice is that she finally confirms what she already knew, gets him to admit it out loud, about his feelings for Iris, and her guilt returns ten-fold.

She just really hopes she’s not quite as obvious.

And then they kiss, and it’s pleasant, it’s sweet, and Barry’s not a bad kisser. But there’s nothing intimate about it, and somehow it just doesn’t feel like anything other than platonic, like they’re just two good friends who just so happen to be kissing.

When they pull away from each other, Barry is searching for the same thing in Felicity’s eyes that she knows she’s searching for in his, and it doesn’t take long for both of them to find it. They share a look of mutual understanding, and Felicity knows that Barry feels it too, that he can see that they’re better off of as friends. Felicity enjoys Barry’s company just as much as she enjoys Iris’s, really, but the same attraction just isn’t there.

They smile warmly at each other, a little sadly, like they both realize that this was essentially closure, a moment of acceptance between two people who wish they felt something more for each other, who really want to, but who can’t. And that’s okay—frustrating, but okay.

Barry bids her farewell only after promising to keep in touch, assuring her that if she ever needs anything he’ll be there for her in a heartbeat. It’s so sincere and heartfelt, Felicity wonders how it’s possible for two people as genuinely lovely and good as Barry and Iris can even exist within such close proximity.

She returns the sentiment, all the same.

 

 

Long after Barry is gone, Felicity is still reeling from the aftermath of her foray into Central City. To think that she thought she was just coming to see Barry run really fast and maybe make out with him or something, bleach her brain of Oliver Queen. She supposes she did kind of achieve all those things too, but still. So much more than she bargained for.

Mostly because of…well, mostly because of Iris. The sudden butterflies in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her are not something she anticipated, and certainly not something she could have planned for.

Her sigh is so long and drawn-out that it’s almost comical, and she twists her fingers together and furiously worries her bottom lip in frustration, wondering how it’s possible that she’s fallen this hard this fast. She’s angry at herself and at Barry (although realistically she knows it’s not actually either of their faults) for not being able to make, well, the whole Felicity-and-Barry thing work when, objectively, they are seriously perfect for each other, when it would solve so many of both of their problems, when in purely hypothetical terms it could have _so much_ potential.

Barry is cute, sweet, smart, and a fucking superhero. And she’s not so bad herself, she doesn’t think. They could totally be friends. Well, they _are_ already friends, but they could be really, _really_ good friends. She could absolutely see herself hanging out with Barry more often, nerding out over stuff and venting about life in general. But she knows, and she knows that he knows too, that for some inexplicable reason they’ll never be anything other than just that. They tried, and they could try again, but it just doesn’t feel quite right.

She’s staring out the window, at the city lights speeding by, wishing she could just turn her brain off and go to sleep for a few hours—or days, or maybe months— her mind a whirlwind of thoughts she really doesn’t want to address any time soon, when her phone buzzes.

She almost considers not bothering to check it—it’s probably Oliver or John or Roy, wondering where she is, and when she’s going to be back. Honestly, they’re hopeless without her. The thought should be flattering, the picture of them all sitting around in the Arrow Cave, (she doesn’t even bother scolding herself from using the term when Oliver’s not around), twiddling their thumbs and trying to figure out how to do what she does with all their adorably confused faces on full display, but she’s too annoyed at the moment to be flattered. Instead she’s just, well…annoyed. Annoyed with herself. Annoyed with the universe.

But she does check, because God forbid there really is something awful going on back in Starling and her tech-skills are desperately in need to save a life or catch a bad guy or whatever crazy thing might be going on and she _doesn’t_ check her phone, because she really doesn’t need anything else on her conscience right now.

She pulls her phone out from her bag, resigning herself to whatever it is she’ll have to deal with, relinquishing any peace and quiet she might have hoped to achieve. But as it turns out, it’s not Oliver or Digg or Roy or Laurel or even Barry. It’s not even a text.

Her heart jumps to her throat when she sees the little notification alerting her that someone has sent her a snapchat, and she takes in the name on the screen, her heartbeat racing. _Iris._

She opens it up, and is rewarded with a picture of Iris blowing her a kiss, somehow still sporting one of her brilliant, sunny smiles, and Felicity marvels at how it’s even possible for someone to be able convey so much light and charisma over a freaking photo. There’s text over her the picture too, and it takes effort to take her eyes off of Iris’s face long enough to read what it says.

_‘Say hi to Starling City for me! Come back and visit CC whenever; don’t be a stranger!’_

Felicity’s smile as she continues to stare at the picture on her phone is so wide it’s hurting her cheeks. For one horrifying moment she briefly considers screenshotting it, before she remembers that Iris would receive a notification alerting her about it if she did, and the picture luckily vanishes without incident. Honestly, she’s already embarrassed herself enough in the past couple of days.

Instead, she snaps a picture of herself grinning brightly, giving an energetic thumbs up, with the caption _‘Will do!’_ to send back. She can’t even remember the last time she responded to a snapchat, much less this enthusiastically.

As soon as it’s sent, Felicity resumes her position gazing wistfully out the train’s window at her swiftly changing surroundings, except this time instead of being angry or annoyed, she feels giddy and light-headed, and she can’t stop smiling.

As far as she’s concerned, it turns out Iris West really _is_ the best snap-chatter ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to keep this just Iris/Felicity, because while I love the idea of Iris/Barry/Felicity there are so few works for this pairing already and I want to focus more on ladies loving ladies!! I might make an alternate version with the 3 of them because I still have a lot of ideas for that when I'm done with this one though

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a multi-chapter thing I think, and I'm still deciding whether to keep it just Iris/Felicity or make it Barry/Iris/Felicity because I love Barry/Iris and Iris/Felicity and Felicity/Barry all a lot and have ideas for both but I'm not sure...lemmee know what you think and maybe help me decide!! (if you want, that is)


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